


Gold Stilettos

by IDoWhatIWant571



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-25
Updated: 2020-08-25
Packaged: 2021-03-07 00:54:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,668
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26098210
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IDoWhatIWant571/pseuds/IDoWhatIWant571
Summary: Hermione attends the 5th Anniversary of the Celebration of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named’s Eminent Demise.  Or, the appropriately arcronymed ACHMNNED.Complete fluffy one-shot.
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy
Kudos: 53





	Gold Stilettos

Hermione descended the marble stairs, a hand gliding down the smooth balustrade, her dress swishing against her ankles while she held the train to keep it from twisting around her gold heels that were high enough that falling and breaking her neck was a definite probability. She stared down her nose at her feet, keeping her chin up. Anyone further than a few feet away wouldn’t be able to tell she was actually making sure she didn’t somersault down the stairs in front of the entire wizarding community. 

Harry came to her rescue a few steps from the bottom, gallantly offering his hand. “I thought I might die,” Hermione breathed a sigh of relief, smiling to her friend when she finally hit the bottom of the stairs, releasing her dress to pool at her feet in a blue puddle. 

“That would’ve been unseemly,” Harry grinned. She made to smack his arm but barely refrained. Indeed, most everyone was glancing their way, some even outright staring. Some even whispering behind upturned hands. 

Hermione’s hands turned clammy, eyes wide, as the color drained from her face. 

That’s when a bright red blur of hair and freckles blocked her view forcing her to change focus. Ron joined them, a small plate piled high with various pastries and pusties. “Did you just get here, Hermione?” he sputtered before taking another bite of a miniature mince pie. “The food’s terrific! Want some?” he said, holding up his plate. 

“Er-”

“Hermione, there are some people I’d like you to meet,” Harry interrupted. “They’re just over here. Ron, care to join?”

Ron made a face, scrunched nose and all. “No thanks, mate. There’s a fudge fountain with my name on it. I’ll leave you two to the creatures’ rights campaign,” he said, rolling his eyes.

Hermione’s temper flared. Harry smiled, pulling Hermione away, an uncomfortably firm grip on her hand. 

“Smile,” Harry whispered through his teeth, smiling and waving to random people as he navigated them along the wall. Hermione pulled her cheeks up into something resembling a grimace.

“Try not to look like you’re crop-dusting these poor unsuspecting witches?” Harry suggested. 

One of them, a short witch with a few too many pearl necklaces, must have heard as she openly glared in their direction. Her thick fingers daintily held a gemstone encrusted leash with a cat at the other end, who chose this very moment to heave a cough. A real laugh escaped as Hermione stumbled a step, trying to cover her mouth with her free hand. 

She managed to discreetly shove Harry off-balance with her hip in what probably looked like an accident to anyone else. 

Harry’s smile grew. 

Having walked about a third of the way around the room, Harry pulls Hermione to a stop, causing her to teeter dangerously. “Ach! -Harry! Are you actually trying to break my neck?”

“Sorry! I forgot the heels. Oh!” 

“Oh, what?” Hermione says, putting her newly freed hand on her hip. 

“It’s just that...”

“Spit it out, Harry. What?” she snaps.

Harry runs his hand through his hair. “You shine up nice, Hermione.”

Now it’s her turn to say “Oh.”

“I mean, you look beautiful,” he says. 

Hermiones’s face heats up. “Oh. Well, the dress is from Pansy’s new shop and I got Parvati to tell me which hair charms to use and Ginny showed me some makeup tips and believe it or not, Luna gave me the necklace a few years ago and the shoes-”

“What Potter meant to say is that you are beautiful.”

A stunning blonde in a blue suit and gold tie walked around the two of them, settling himself beside her friend. “Hello, Granger,” Draco Malfoy says, his head tilted with that endless smirk plastered on his insufferable face. 

“Malfoy,” Hermione spits out. “Harry, can I talk to you?” making to grab Harry, who shrugs her off.

“Er- actually Hermione, I wanted to introduce you.” Harry holds his palms out in supplication, though looking like he’s ready to grab her if she tries to run. No matter that the shoes wouldn’t let her get very far. 

“I know who sodding Draco Malfoy is, Harry. Thanks, though,” she says. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I think I saw Delores Umbridge and I’ve been wanting to speak with her on how she gets her clothes to stay so very pink.” Hermione makes to walk off to find someone, anyone else to talk to. 

“Hermione, wait!” Harry bursts out. She stops, an eyebrow raised high.

“I’m sorry, okay? I meant to give you a heads up. To ask if you’d be willing to chat a minute. I just got distracted when...” Harry paused, uncomfortable. 

Hermione waited.

“You struck Potter dumb, Granger. Not much of a feat, I admit,” he adds.

“Oh sod off, Malfoy,” Hermione snaps.

Harry’s face is turning red. “Hermione, look. We got to talking-”

“Oh?” Hermione interrupts, daring an incredulous look at the new Malfoy patriarch. 

“Stop. -I mean! No. Let me start over,” Harry pauses, glancing at his shoes, swiping a hand through his hair before looking back to Hermione. “Hermione, you remember Draco?”

Draco, endlessly amused, waits patiently while Hermione starts to feel a teensy bit of remorse for making this so hard on her friend. She waits for him to continue.

“He and I got to talking,” Harry started slowly. “I told him about the theory you had about brewing potions in reverse in order to find their antidotes and he’s been in India studying for his Potions Mastery there and was interested in hearing what you have to say,” He huffed with relief.

Hermione gave her friend a tight smile. Turning to Draco she stated, “Actually, I’ve been working on a theory about reverse engineering potions to find their antidote.”

Harry nods quickly, eyebrows raised.

Draco blinks slowly once. Twice. “And… what exactly in engineering, Granger?”

She can’t believe she’s having this conversation. With Draco Malfoy. And he’s not taking the chance to sneer at her or the muggle term. “Well there’s engineering, and there’s reverse engineering. Basically, engineering is the designing of something. Like planes or bridges or computers.”

Draco’s face is at risk of being stuck permanently in a patronizing smirk. Is he toying with her?

Hermione continues. “Reverse engineering is taking something that already exists and breaking it down into simpler parts and pieces.”

Harry seems befuddled. “So why do you need to reverse engineer a potion, when you already have the recipe for a potion,” he asks.

“Why indeed.” Grey eyes slide from Harry to lock onto Hermione. “Potter, do you mind if I borrow your brilliant friend for a moment?” He holds out a hand, the epitome of grace and refinement.

Harry looks uncertain. “Er, well… Hermione?” he looks between the two as Hermione places her hand in Draco’s.

“I’ll be alright Harry. I believe Rita Skeeter was looking for you?” Hermione says, subtly reminding him that they’re in a room full of witches and wizards. Draco would be a fool to try anything distasteful. Right? Hermione swallows and follows Draco’s lead, leaving her gaping-mouthed friend behind. 

\---

“Now tell me all about this reverse engineering of potions, Miss Granger. I’m just dying to know,” he quirks. 

Some people are beginning to notice their familiarity as they continue their stroll amongst Ministry officials, members of the DA, old classmates, and Purebloods alike. Nearly everyone she knows is here. Here at the 5th Anniversary of the Celebration of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named’s Imminent Demise. Or, the appropriately arcronymed ACHMNNID. Pronounced ack-mm-nid. Or atch-em-ned, depending on who you asked. Completely silly, either way.

Hermione turns and dips her head as Draco casually nods to a few friends of his mother’s, who do nothing other than stare as they walk by. Say something, Hermione. For goodness sake. Say something.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” Well, that’s not what she had planned to say, but it was certainly all she could think about. Almost nothing else had occupied her thoughts other than this moment right here, right now.

Draco paused near a pillar, turning to her. “This was your idea. We can wait.” He’s still loosely holding her hand but allows her time to think. To reconsider. To run. Even with the damned shoes. She could probably transfigure them into running shoes, but that would take more time than she’d allow. If she really wanted to run. 

“You really are beautiful tonight, Hermione,” he says softly, running a thumb gently along the back of her hand. He was trying to tell her it was ok. That he’d understand if she wanted to wait. A day, a week. A month, a year. Forever.

Which she didn’t. She wanted this. Now. She was sure. 

“You say that every night,” she smiles quietly.

“That’s because it’s true every night.”

“What about in the mornings?” she asks.

“Ack! No! A disaster. Why would you bring that up?” he teases, dropping her hand.

She can’t help but grin up at him. Not quite so much of a height difference with the gold stilettos, though. 

No one could hear their exchange, but their body language says enough. She can hear the whispers swirling around them as one song fades and another begins. 

“Draco?” she asks tentatively. “Would you like to dance?” she says loud enough for those around them to hear.

Relief floods Draco’s eyes and shoulders as he takes a moment, then bows, offering her his hand once more. 

“It would be my pleasure, Hermione,” he replies, as she threads her hand through his, turning to walk them both to the dance floor. 

She grips his hand hard. “Don’t you dare let me fall, Draco Malfoy,” she whispers as they turn to face each other, Hermione’s arm curling to hold his shoulder, Draco’s wrapping around her lower back and pulling her close.

“Never,” he says, the corner of his mouth pulling up.

She smiles back, before laying her head on his shoulder as they dance into the night. Come what may.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you liked it? It’s the first thing I’ve ever written and completed. I’ve discovered that I don’t have the patience (or self control) to post something longer. Much to my chagrin.  
> I have a couple ideas for a “sequel” from Draco’s point of view with some more details. I might even come back and edit this one to add some details. But. For now I figured I’d just be brave and post this now or else I won’t do it at all. I don’t have an alpha or beta so all mistakes are mine. So please be kind? And please don’t troll. Like I’m legit asking you nicely to not troll. Thanks in advance.  
> -Rachael


End file.
